


hunger pangs

by Anonymous



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, But I’m not even gonna bother to tag that one gang, Eating Disorders, Gen, He L p, TommyInnit Angst (Video Blogging RPF), Trans TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), but it isn’t really that big, do I have an eating disorder?? The world may never know, how do I even tag this honestly, how many things can I project into mcyts challenge, implied neurodivergence with the whole executive dysfunction and sensory issues thing, transphobia but only a little bit ajfbsjf, vent - Freeform, vent fic, yeet :D
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-04
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-17 05:01:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29836416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Tommy doesn’t have an eating disorder.He can’t have an eating disorder.
Relationships: Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit
Comments: 10
Kudos: 255
Collections: Anonymous Fics





	hunger pangs

Tommy doesn’t have an eating disorder. 

Simple as that.

Or, at least, it should be.

Food consumes his mind quite often. He analyzes what he's eaten by the end of the day, and he praises himself when it's hardly anything at all. He knows, vaguely, he shouldn’t, but he can’t help feeling proud.

It’s not that he believes he’s fat. Chubby, sure, but honestly, he didn’t really mind it most of the time. So maybe he does wanna see bones, wanna see his ribcage he’s so skinny, but he doesn’t truly starve himself, so it doesn’t count.

He eats when he’s hungry. It’s just his definition of hungry is a bit upgraded from others.

He’s hungry when he’s nauseous as all hell, when he can’t focus on school or streaming because all he can think of is the sharp, searing pain gnawing on his stomach and abdomen. He’s hungry when he’s faint and dizzy, when he can’t walk very well. He’s only hungry when he feels like he’s knocking on death’s door, and he knows it’s because he’s malnourished.  _ Then  _ he eats.

He checks on his bmi almost compulsively, always saddened and ashamed when it’s not underweight. 

He really thinks that it’s about the control.

He’s never been good at that. 

He’s weak. Not a lot of things seem appealing. He’s weak for the taste of something good, he’s weak for the promise of not starving, he’s weak for food when he doesn’t deserve to be.

He hates himself when he eats. But he does it anyway. So he can’t have an eating disorder, right? 

Maybe part of the reason he hardly eats is because nothing is good enough. He can’t handle certain textures or smells. Sometimes there’s just nothing he feels like he can eat and not die inside. And nothing is  _ healthy _ enough. So he doesn’t deserve it. He doesn’t deserve it. He’s a pig if he eats it. 

He doesn’t leave his room a lot. His family is exhausting. Sometimes he’d be sick to his stomach with hunger pangs and he’d still lay there on his bed, thinking that this pain was worth it over having to see his family. Over having to pretend, over having their eyes crawl over him like spiders, just  _ knowing _ he wasn’t always a boy, just  _ thinking _ he’s really a girl. He hates it. He’d starve a million times over not to see them. They’re always so disappointed and loud and awful. It’s mean. But it’s true.

Sometimes he really does want to eat, on better days. Arguably better, of course. But he can’t bring himself to move. He just can’t move. Or again, there’s just nothing he can bring himself to eat. Nothing at all. 

It’s too many things, he thinks, to be whittled down to something specific. His recollection is hazy, his reasoning and actions blurred into a backdrop of something drab that had somehow gotten him to the present. 

And sure, maybe he can wrap his hand around his wrist. (He wishes there was more room left. He wants to be  _ skinny. _ ) And sure, maybe he loses weight fast. And sure, maybe he had had a pair of pajama pants that were comfortable, that he’d gotten when he must’ve been 11, and they used to be too small, clinging to him, and now they hang looser than they ever did before, and it makes him feel so  _ good _ . Satisfied. Proud. Look at how much he’s  _ lost _ , without even realizing. Look how skinny he is. 

He doesn’t eat a lot. It takes way longer than it should to explain why. But he doesn’t have an eating disorder. That wouldn’t make sense.

He’s supposed to be streaming, he thinks distantly. But there’s hunger ripping through his torso, doubling him over in pain. He’s already slack with his schedule. He’ll do it tomorrow. 

He stares at his phone. He wants to eat, but won’t let himself. He stares at his messages with Wilbur. He’d be worried if Tommy told him. And how could Tommy even convey the strangest, weirdest urge that he wants, needs, permission. That he can’t eat yet. That’s he's mentally begging for Wilbur to tell him to eat so that he can finally stop starving himself for today. That’s he’s screaming in his mind trying to think of a way to make Wilbur say it, say that he has to eat, so that he feels a little less like an awful criminal when he does. He just wants someone to make him eat. Let him eat. He’s so hungry. But he isn’t allowed to eat. 

He feels kinda stupid at how easy his limit comes. He never truly fasts. He envies the people that can go without the chore of eating for days.

He recognizes it might all be a little bit unhealthy. Not detrimental, though. Not an eating disorder.

What kind of eating disorder works like this, anyway? 

He never makes himself throw up. He never does anything except starve for hours on end, and he wishes it were days, for a multitude of stupid and obscure reasons.

He feels stupid and awful and not just because he’s dizzy from hunger. 

He doesn’t have an eating disorder.

He doesn’t have an eating disorder.

He. Doesn't. Have. An. Eating. Disorder.

That would be stupid to think. 

_ (But what else is this? What does he call this? How does he help this? Does he even want to?) _

He tosses his phone away from him, and when the wave of nausea finally calms down, he turns out his light while trying to also turn out his brain. It doesn’t really work. Eventually he manages to fall asleep. 

**Author's Note:**

> Waddup fellow gays
> 
> Hope u liked it
> 
> This is pure vent but I like screaming into the void scream back if ur up for it 
> 
> Hope y’all are alright :,)


End file.
